


A Drop In The Ocean

by Gargant



Category: Tales of Berseria
Genre: Gen, Trick or Treat: Trick, shigure/artorius if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 01:02:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12470008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gargant/pseuds/Gargant
Summary: What should be a standard expedition to Hellawes takes a supernatural turn, and puts Shigure under pressure to fulfill his role as Artorius's bodyguard. There's no way he's going to regret leaving Morgrim behind in Loegres, right?





	A Drop In The Ocean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pirotess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirotess/gifts).



> pirotess: Hey there!! You wanted a spooky ghost ship, or something antagonist-centric. So why not both! I hope the Trick or Treat exchange has been good to you. I really enjoyed having a chance to write something like this, and I hope you enjoy reading it as well! Happy Halloween to you!
> 
> And to anyone else reading, please have fun with this! Shigure is hilarious, and I really loved having a chance to mess with him c:
> 
> NOTE: light spoilers for the conclusion of Rokurou's side quest!

"I don't get why it bugs him so much," Shigure complains to Artorius. "He doesn't care where _your_ Malak goes."

The ship is creaking lightly around them—as Artorius writes, his lantern sways with the rhythm of the waves, casting all the lines of his face into ever-shifting planes of light and shadow. He doesn't look up from the scratch of his quill. "Seres attends to important matters, often under Melchior's own instruction. You, meanwhile, have left Morgrim in Loegres to fatten herself on cream." Artorius's eyes flick to him for a second, before he reaches for a fresh leaf of paper. "Thatis the distinction Lord Melchior is making."

Shigure catches himself frowning. "Don't talk about her weight. She's sensitive about that."

"She isn't _here_ ," Artorius replies dryly, his quill moving once more. "Is that not the whole reason you two have been arguing?"

It is. _If you're to act as Lord Artorius's bodyguard then you must take the matter seriously_ , Melchior had been scolding him. Hah! As though he needs anything other than Stormhowl and his own two hands to keep Artorius safe. Hell, as if their precious Shepherd needs to be protected at all. Shigure knows the truth of that better than anyone.

But if he's going to be anyone's shield, he wants to do it under his own power. Not Morgrim's, or anyone else.

_Dependence on one other than oneself is not the Rangetsu creed,_ he'd told Melchior, with all the formal intonation of his childhood—and then he'd laughed bold and brash, right in Melchior's sour old face. _It's just not my style, old man_ . _Don't even worry about it. I'll keep him good and safe._

And in the end it was Shigure who refused to back down. Melchior's been left behind to keep watch in Loegres, and Morgrim has been allowed to rest on her feline laurels and do whatever it is that Malak do when they're left alone. "It's fine," Shigure reassures Artorius for what feels like the millionth time. "He'll get over it. It's not good for anyone to always get their own way, y'know."

"Is that so?" Artorius replies, with another flickering glance. With the light shifting over his face, it almost looks like he's trying to repress a smile. "Go. Get some rest before we arrive. I've got work to do."

"Sounds fun," Shigure laughs back, and leaves Artorius to it. They won't make port in Hellawes until tomorrow afternoon, and until then, his plans are only sake and sleep.

Sometimes he almost wonders why they call him a legate at all.

 

 

Three hours later someone comes hammering at his door—his hand is clutching Stormhowl's hilt before he even fully understands what he's hearing.

"There's a ship approaching us!" The voice of a nervous exorcist calls from the hallway, stumbling over the words in his haste. "Shepherd Artorius asks for your immediate assistance on deck!"

So things are getting interesting a little sooner after all. Shigure makes it up to the deck in minutes, with Stormhowl at his back and a grin plastered to his face. The misty tendrils snaking their way down the stairwell and around his ankles catch his eye, but none of it makes him hesitate. Whatever this is, he's ready for a challenge.

Their ship is enveloped in fog, so thick he can barely see the prow of their own vessel, never even mind the one that's supposed to be encroaching on them. Drifting out in the ocean he can see smudgy circles of light—candles or lanterns or fires—so he guesses _that_ must be the enemy and so that's the direction he goes. Spread across the deck are a gaggle of exorcists armed with spears, all more likely to get in his way than actually be any use. _That's_ not his style either. Shigure shoots them a smile, and waves them back behind him.

"I've got this," He reassures them, and feels their relief roll over him. He doesn't think he's cocky—he knows how good he is, and he knows who's better—but he can't pretend it isn't nice to look out for these poor hopeless kids. Leaving them to hang back and watch how it's done, Shigure strides forward.

Artorius is standing at the railing, his face set in a hard frown. Shigure slaps a hand down on the rail and peers out into the grey. "Any idea who we're looking at?" He asks, expecting... well, something _other_ than the flash of blind confusion that crosses Artorius's face.

"What are you doing here?" Artorius asks, and then something like understanding seems to dawn in his eyes, and he looks into the fog over his shoulder. "Do we really have time for this?"

_I'm here because you_ **_called_ ** _me_ , Shigure starts to reply, but the next thing he hears is a warning shout and then the sharp thud of wood on wood. For a second he thinks the enemy has collided with them, and things are about to take a real bad turn, but then he realises the sound was only an enemy gangplank crashing down against their rail. Shigure has Stormhowl in hand in an instant, sliding himself between the gangway and Artorius as smooth as instinct.

But nothing happens. The gangplank stays deserted, the enemy ship staying an indistinguishable mass on the waves. Shigure huffs, loosens back up with a rolling shrug, and props Stormhowl back over the width of his shoulders. "Well well. Isn't this a spooky old time?"

"Be serious," Artorius warns him, which is about the same thing that Artorius _always_ warns him, so he doesn't pay it much attention. "Don't rush ahead."

"Of course," Shigure assures him, and strolls to the edge of the gangplank. He knows better than to take the first step, even without Artorius's warning, and so he stands there with Stormhowl resting lax and ready, waiting for his cowardly opponent to finally make itself known.

The thing that finally comes shambling out of the fog is definitely a corpse.

It's not even that much of a shock. He's faced the undead before; skeletal spectres or the decaying husks of fallen soldiers doomed to wander forgotten battlefields. He's never seen a _ship_ infested like this, but it's not such an unbelievable thought. Frankly he might have been underwhelmed, if he hadn't recognised the clothing.

The corpse edges onto the gangplank and then stops, swaying and juddering in the stagnant fog-heavy air. His rotting clothes hang in limp tatters around his lifeless form, whites and reds and oranges all stained now in rusty cracking brown. Shigure raises his eyebrows, and says the last thing he'd ever expect to say out in the middle of some midnight stretch of ocean. "You're Rangetsu, aren't you?"

The dead aren't great conversationalists. Shigure watches the corpse raise its gaze, up and up until the shapeless lump of what must once have been a nose is pointed skyward; and then it just keeps going, a slick wet _crack_ as its head almost seems to roll over the back of its shoulders and all he can see it the stringy remains of what used to be a throat. Shigure isn't sure if it's funny or just disgusting, but he looks up as well, following where that empty-socket gaze has gone.

Through the wisps of fog he can see the mast of the enemy ship. He can see the ruin of their sail, emblazoned with the emblem of the Rangetsu clan. Now that he looks he can see all of it, so much clearer than even a few moments before—the familiar shapes carved into the wood, the serpentine point of the prow, the peel of ancient paintwork ravaged away by time and neglect. All wrong for life on the open ocean, and generations away from any ship he's ever known to be in his family's possession, but still unmistakable for what it is.

The ship's deck is heaving with the dead. And he knows, somehow, that every one of them bears the name Rangetsu.

"Don't go over there," He hears Artorius warn him.

Shigure looks back over his shoulder, shifting Stormhowl's weight to punctuate his point. "I can handle it," He says, and Artorius seems to hesitate, before simply nodding his head in some sort of pained acquiescence.

He's heard exorcists say that Artorius is hard to read; Shigure has never agreed with that much. But right now he has no idea what Artorius is thinking, and that, more than anything else, is starting to give him the creeps.

"Yo!" Shigure calls, turning his attention back to his undead ancestors. "If you're here to see the illustrious Shepherd, tough luck. Visiting hours are over just now. You all are gonna have to come back some other time."

Behind him, Shigure hears the quiet sound of Artorius sighing between his teeth.

Ahead of him, a corpse raises it's head and hisses, "Ichi."

It's like a beacon has been lit, and now that they can see that light they've no choice but to follow the glow. "Ichi," The deck seethes, crackling voices rising up to take on the clarion call. "Ichi," They groan, they whisper, they garble out through mouths half-empty of teeth. Shigure does not know these corpses—these women, these men. But they sure seem to think they know him.

The noise of it grows all up around him until it’s drowned out even the sounds of the ocean, filling the air with so much discord that finally Shigure throws back his head and booms laughter simply for the sake of hearing something other than the sounds of a long dead name.

"Oh, fellas! I hate to break it to you like this, but you've got the wrong guy!" Now he brings Stormhowl down in one smooth flowing arc, swinging it before himself to point at the shambling corpse that blocks the gangway. "I'm Shigure Rangetsu, and I'm gonna give you all one more chance. Get outta here, or I'm gonna have to make you."

It's no way at all to treat his ancestors and he knows it. These corpses might be nothing, just daemons wearing skins designed to unman him. But they might be the real thing, the real people from which he and all his siblings descended, and the need to harm them doesn't make him proud. He'll be pouring a lot of drinks before the night is done.

But he's the Shepherd's bodyguard, the one who has to keep Artorius's hands clean for him. And if that means dirtying his own, even against the empty rust of his own former kin, then so be it.

"You are not Shigure. True Shigure... still lives..." The corpse on the gangway croaks.

And Shigure freezes. _Ichi_ , the night air still echoes around them, but now there are other cries as well, _Shigure_ , and _Where's Shigure?_ and _Not Shigure! Our Shigure!_ , and Shigure tightens his grip on Stormhowl's hilt and reminds himself that the sword is his, rightfully his, won in battle and paid for with the highest price. But the corpse keeps speaking, the stringy dead meat of its torn throat dancing with each cracked word. "The Shigure... taken from us. Where? Where is she? Where is Shigure?"

It's not a question anyone should know to ask. And it's not a question he knows the answer to any more. Where is the former Shigure? Where is the woman he cut down to take his place as the head of the clan? Where is the mother he walked away from rather than be forced to take his blade to her a second time?

They're still saying his name, still crying their rotten words, and Shigure has had enough. The sound of Artorius's voice is there behind him, but he doesn't care about that right now. This isn't Abbey business anymore. "Enough!" He roars at them, bracing himself and levelling Stormhowl, " _I_ am Shigure! I am the rightful heir to the Rangetsu clan!"

"Shigure, hold—!" He hears Artorius yell behind him, a second before he launches himself across the gangplank and into the clawing masses of his lost ancestors.

Or at least that's what was supposed to happen. Instead Shigure bursts forward— and suddenly pitches downward, the wooden slats beneath him vanishing into thick grey fog and empty air. He barely has time for a startled cry before he's toppled end over end, all sense of direction lost in an instant. Then it's the sharp salt slap of ocean knocking the air out of him, and he barely has time to try and gasp before he's going under.

 

 

By the time they get him back on deck, dripping and ragged, the fog is gone, the ocean is clear for miles, and Melchior is standing over him. "This could have been easily avoided," He says, stroking his beard.

"Stormhowl!" Is all Shigure can manage at first, grasping blindly around himself in salt-soaked frenzy. "Where's Stormhowl?"

"Right here," Artorius assures him, and sure enough, the blade is lain out along the deck. Shigure has never been the sort to panic, so it's a relief to feel the emotion begin to ebb away. Stormhowl—the Rangetsu name—is safe. Kneeling beside him, Artorius shakes his head. "Its weight almost pulled you down. Had you only released your hold—"

Shigure laughs, sputters, and laughs even harder at Artorius's blank frustration. "Let Stormhowl go? You should know better than that."

Above him, Melchior clears his throat. Feeling more like himself already, despite the cold night air already seeping into his soaking wet skin, Shigure finally looks up and realises what should have been obvious from the start. "Wait a sec. When the hell did _you_ get here?"

It seems like that's exactly the opening line Melchior has been waiting for. "I have been here this entire time. A fact that your Malak would have easily been able to identify, if you had deigned to bring her along. Of course, she would also have seen through my illusionary arte."

Shigure's still processing this when Artorius stands, and fixes Melchior a glower the likes of which Shigure has rarely seen directed at his fellow legate. "I think your point has been made. Melchior, I will not tolerate this kind of internal conflict again. We have enough strife to contend with in this world without unnecessarily inflicting it upon one another."

Melchior just bows acknowledgement. "I would never take any such action unless it were necessary," He says, and Shigure knows right away that Melchior isn't the least bit sorry. That's good. Shigure would respect him a whole lot less if he was.

"You crafty old bastard," He groans, and finally clambers back to his feet. He's not sure how long he was in the water, but it feels as though it’s managed to soak into every bone and joint of his body. "That was good, I'll give you that." Better than good—Shigure can still see the way that rotted throat had moved around the words. "Just tell me one thing. How did you know all that stuff?"

He keeps his question vague, and Melchior extends him the same courtesy. "My illusions feed on the cracks in our own hearts, Lord Shigure. If you would ruminate on what you have seen tonight, look within yourself, and not at the artes which brought those visions to you."

Shigure's starting to shiver now, violent full-body shakes quavering through his whole body, but he refuses to huddle into himself like a petulant memory. Instead he smiles, shakes his head and spreads his hands and cedes defeat. "Fine, fine. I hear ya. I'll bring Morgrim next time, yeah?"

Melchior gives him a ponderous nod, an approving smile on his lips. "I would recommend it. Excuse me, my Lords."

Artorius watched him leave in silence, his mouth set in a grim line. When they're alone, he turns and places his hand on Shigure's arm. "You will be no use to me as a bodyguard if you catch your death of cold. Come below deck. "

Which sounds enough like a promise that Shigure grins, hesitating only long enough to retrieve Stormhowl from where it lies. He thinks he'll still be pouring a drink for the ancestors tonight. Whether they were present or not, he figures that something inside him owes them one. And no sword deserves to be plunged into the freezing ocean without cause—he'll have to tend to the blade as well. There won't be much time left for sleep.

He's still ruminating when Artorius walks away. "Don't keep me waiting," He says over his shoulder, and his voice has gone almost as cold as the midnight air. "Ichi."


End file.
